


the sun will rise (and we will try again)

by daisuga



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Legends of Zelda AU, M/M, Mild Descriptions of Fighting, Minor Character Death, Reincarnation, everyone is here one way or another, genshin impact au, haha lore goes brrr, local verkwan goes through trauma and heals for a hundred years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: One time, while they were in one of the outpost ruins, they followed a shooting star all the way to the edge of the world. It was not an easy thing to do. They did it, though, and at the edge by the rocks, the star was just a pillar of light, then it was a door, then Seungkwan was pushing through it.What would you do, Seungkwan? Push the door open. Enter it.It's how they left Hyrule and entered Teyvat.A hundred years is a very, very long time.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, minor Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	the sun will rise (and we will try again)

**Author's Note:**

> ty to my soulmate for proofreading.
> 
> title from truce - twenty one pilots
> 
> EDIT: dearest [Rum](https://twitter.com/rumisfortweet) drew [this AU's verkwan](https://twitter.com/rumisfortweet/status/1363803219697221635) and i am eternally grateful for it ;; rum, if u are reading this, ilu

Seungkwan died once.

It wasn’t a good feeling. He died in winter, just a month and a few days after his birthday. His birthday - well, it was a funny affair. Soonyoung and Seokmin wouldn’t let go of him, even if he was so adamant on practicing his sword. He swung it once, twice, then Soonyoung was pulling it away, being so fast that Seungkwan couldn’t even run after him. Seungkwan stayed still, then, and he just let Seokmin usher him inside the castle. Jeonghan and Seungcheol greeted them, their own swords swung over their hips, a smile on their face. On their blue tunics, a flower was stitched. Seungkwan tries to remember what it was. Seungkwan, as always, failed.

The castle. It was a huge, white _thing_. It takes a while for Seungkwan to remember how it looked like; Sometimes, these days, he wakes up and thinks of Seokmin and Soonyoung and Jeonghan and he breaks into a cold sweat. He sits in silence and he refuses to move until their faces come back to his mind: Soonyoung, with his dark locks and slanted eyes and fingers curling into the shape of a tiger’s claws. Seokmin, with his nose tall and eyes crinkling into little winks whenever he laughs too hard and a mole on his cheek. Jeonghan - what does he look like? Panic edges Seungkwan, when Jeonghan is nothing but a blob holding a sword, amidst the clear valleys of greens and tiny little houses made of wood and clay.

“ _Seungkwan_.”

He breathes out, clinging on the voice that pierces through the memories so easily.

Jeonghan appears, in his mind, slowly but surely. His hair was platinum blonde, cut short after swearing allegiance to Seungcheol. He had the type of smile that makes you want to give him everything, and that's more like a fact because Joshua did.

Give his everything, Seungkwan means. Give his life. To Jeonghan. Seungkwan did, too, but not to Jeonghan. He never had the opportunity to.

“Seungkwan, come on.”

The voice is still gentle, but more insistent now, and it pulls him up from the memories he’s been trying to drown himself in for the past hour or so. The first few lights of the morning filters through the window, and Seungkwan feels the warm hand on his back. He finally opens his eyes, even if it feels so heavy after having squeezed it shut for so long.

Hansol is still on the bed, next to him, silver hair sticking up everywhere. He looks so human, like this. With his sleepy smile and stupid, kind eyes, weathered by age. His jaw looks like it can cut his palm open, and Seungkwan thinks that maybe it actually can.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

‘What’s so good about mornings?’ Seungkwan wonders. He used to be a morning person. He used to be the first one out of his bed, throwing himself on Seokmin, then on Soonyoung, then they’d end up being a giggly mess of blankets on the floor of their room. None of that matters anymore, though, not when there’s no more dorms and no more Seokmin and no more Soonyoung, and the white castle from his memories no longer stands, not even a place he can come back to anymore, not now when it’s nothing but a bunch of words in a book passed from person to person.

 _He’s_ here, though. Hansol. But Seungkwan, too. The mark on his back reminds him of that all the time. His sword is still with him, one last thing that survived the years, only because Seungkwan is desperate for it to stay. It leans on the wall, next to the chair, next to the nightstand, next to the bed, where Seungkwan is, next to Hansol.

Get up, Seungkwan.

 _Okay_ , he thinks, and does just that.

* * *

One time, while they were in one of the outpost ruins, they followed a shooting star all the way to the edge of the world. It was not an easy thing to do. They did it, though, and at the edge by the rocks, the star was just a pillar of light, then it was a door, then Seungkwan was pushing through it.

What would you do, Seungkwan? Push the door open. Enter it.

It's how they left Hyrule and entered Teyvat.

Mondstadt was the first city they saw. They travelled around it, Seungkwan’s sword enough to take care of the trolls - _Hilichurls_ , is what they’re called - littered around the fields. It made him sick, just a little bit, a twinge he hadn’t felt in a while. No one needed anyone to _cut down_ anything when the war was over. The war had been "over" for over fifty years. During that time, Seungkwan learned to bake.

The white walled city was filled with blues and flowers and they had the shock of their lives, Hyrule Castle forever a looming shadow that haunts them. It doesn’t matter if they scaled up Mount Hylia, where Hansol first put his hand on the small of Seungkwan’s back, or if they sailed to Tenoko Island, where Seungkwan wrapped his body around Hansol’s to keep him warm. They went the opposite way of Mondstadt first, and sailed to the little, distant island and it was raining and the raft they made was small and they had nothing but fruits and nuts.

“Do demons get cold?” Seungkwan asked, not particularly hoping for an answer. Hansol always answers, though, and Seungkwan sniffed as Hansol moved his head, damp hair hitting Seungkwan’s nose.

“Yes.”

“Do demons eat candy?”

“Yes.”

“Do demons eat humans?”

A pause, and Hansol softly answered, “Yes.”

“Do demons get sad?”

Hansol didn’t look at him, but he moved his hand on top of Seungkwan’s. It was cold. Everything was cold, and so what if they felt like they were about to die. So, what if it felt like any moment, the ocean was going to swallow them whole, consuming them and washing them away. They won’t die, though, because they did not die _way back then_. Not when they were in Hyrule Castle, not when Seungkwan never saw what became of Seokmin and Soonyoung, not when he watched as Jeonghan tried to haul Joshua’s body out of the darkness. Not now, not ever.

So, his friends were dead and everything he ever knew was dead. He died, too, but sometimes he forgets that, because it still feels like a tough pill to swallow. Hansol, for a brief moment, felt warm.

“Yes,” Hansol said.

* * *

Qingce Village is nice, around southwest of Mondstadt.

They had to fight tooth and nail just to get to Qingce Village. Before going there, Hansol learned a spell - somehow, some way, in Mondstadt's library - that allowed him to freeze water, so when they managed to get past the mountains next to the road that they followed from the Winery, they saw a tiny lake of water and decided to cheat it. Never mind that the rectangular platform was suspicious. Never mind that it looked like they shouldn’t be there. Seungkwan held on to Hansol as Hansol froze the water into a makeshift bridge, only for them to be caged the moment they stepped foot on the edge of the marbled platform.

[ _ **So, murderers from our homeland have come on a futile journey to harass the people of the Qingce waters…**_ ]

Hansol stiffened at the word _murderers_. Seungkwan stiffened at the form that rose from the water; it has a tail, like a mermaid, and its arms are extended like poncho-turned-wings. Its head is glowing, and Seungkwan didn’t really know what to make sense of it. What else is new. He didn’t know a lot of things, didn’t know what brought him here in Teyvat, didn’t know what he’s living for. Hansol held his hand, for reassurance – at the very least that last part made sense.

Seungkwan held his sword just a bit tighter, because that was all he could do. Pick up his sword, and protect himself and Hansol with it. Get hit by the enemies. Get healed by Hansol. Do it all over until he succeeds.

[ _ **Very well then. But be warned, her power shall crush any miscreant that would dare pollute these waters.**_ ]

Human-sized animals made of water rose, and it was water, so they didn’t think they’d have a hard time. Hansol froze them and Seungkwan broke them, easy and something they’ve been doing since the start of whatever it is that they’ve made between them. First came the skunks, then the frogs, then the flamingos; but when the birds came, Seungkwan couldn't reach them and one of them drove straight to Hansol.

Seungkwan panicked as Hansol had to shake off the bits of ice clinging on his skin - _Now remember, Hansol, when you freeze things you can also freeze if they hit you with water_ \- and one of the water frogs jumped on him and they got launched off all the way back to the road --

Seungkwan made a fire, and they dried their clothes as Seungkwan unpacked the Sticky Honey Roast they got from Mondstadt. He used chopsticks and Hansol used his hands. Some things never change.

“Should we find another way around?”

Should they? Maybe. Why were they going to Qingce, anyway? Where were they planning to end up in? What did they want? Seungkwan was starting to forget anything except Hansol. Maybe that was all he needed, he thought.

“I think we can do it.”

They ate, put on their clothes, and tried again.

They only had to do it again three more times.

* * *

They met a god in Mondstadt.

But now he lives in Qingce Village. Now that Seungkwan thinks about it, maybe that’s why they went to Qingce. Minghao lives just below the highest point in Qingce Village. To get there, Seungkwan has to trek up one of the hills, then go up further into an ascending flight of stairs, then up three ladders. Up there, you can see the little blue roofs spread around the area, and fields of flowers stretch, like big steps of stairs. The village is right next to a huge waterfall, and rock formations allow for smaller replicas of it to exist around the village. The bridges are made of wood and ropes. At the very edge, near the biggest waterfall, is their house, and Seungkwan can see Hansol and their cat lounging next to the makeshift hammock they installed under the extended roof.

He adjusts his sword hanging off his back and enters the modest house.

“Seungkwannie, how are you?”

Minghao is already up, sipping a cup of tea and reading a book. He’s on the floor, dressed in a white _changshan_ , auburn hair falling perfectly in place. He looks regal, like a god, because he is.

“Minghao,” Seungkwan says, hauling his bag on the floor and sitting just opposite of Minghao. “I got your books.”

" _Xiexie,_ " Minghao says, and he inspects the books Seungkwan gives him. "You work fast as always."

"It's because Hansol is so much better with his powers."

"And you?"

"Me?" Seungkwan repeats. "I'm good."

He sips the tea Minghao offers, and takes the payment - 10,000 Mora, 50 gems, not bad - before deciding that he has to go.

The descent is easier than the climb. He had been deathly afraid, the first time he did it, but now it's one of his most favorite things. He stands at the edge of the cliff outside Minghao's house, and jumps.

His glider unfurls out of thin air easily, one magic Wonwoo swore he would take to his grave. It's a different feeling, not having to hold a paraglider, his hands able to flail around. The air caresses his cheeks and the flowers around Qingce always smell so much sweeter when he's descending down the air.

He misses Hyrule, sometimes.

He hits the ground before he can think about it more, just a few feet away from their house. He walks near the water, spying his hair and clothes and feeling surprised when he doesn't feel like recoiling from his reflection.

Hansol doesn't get up from the hammock when he arrives, but the cat does. _Jazz_ , Hansol called it, _like the music style_. He learned it in Mondstadt, and Seungkwan just agrees because it's cute anyway. The Siamese cat quietly walks as Seungkwan puts away their earnings in the chest.

They have four commissions to finish, and that means they have to go to Liyue Harbor before the end of the day. Liyue Harbor is way down south, and often Seungkwan wonders if they should've just bought a house there. But Qingce Village is nice. There’re only a few people living in it, most of them old people, because the newer generations left the village in favor of the new lands uncovered, new cities built. It's lonely but pretty.

It fits them more, Seungkwan thinks.

* * *

So, they've been alive for a little over a hundred years.

They will never age. Seungkwan used to be blonde when they were in Hyrule. Jeonghan used to retouch his roots, gentle hands taking care of his hair. Seokmin dyed his hair silver once and then never again. Soonyoung was a mess. They used to wear blue tunics, stitched with a flower on the pocket.

Now Seungkwan wears a red coat with long sleeves, his hair a dark brown. Hansol is the one who takes care of his roots, because Jeonghan will never be able to do it anymore. He never had to retouch Hansol's, because it grows silver, but now and then Hansol opts for a haircut and Seungkwan is more than happy to do it for him.

Hansol has taken a liking to combing Seungkwan's hair, or just massaging his scalp. Seungkwan looks up at him, and eyes his silver hair.

"I envy your hair."

"There's nothing to envy about it."

"It's just naturally pretty."

Hansol looks down at him, fingers massaging Seungkwan's scalp. He looks the same as he did a hundred years ago. Seungkwan wonders if it really has been a hundred years. Maybe it's more than a hundred years already, and he just doesn't know? So, what if he doesn't, though? A hundred or so years, and he still can't make up his mind, can't choose which information to keep and which to forget. Does that matter, though?

Hansol presses on his temples, and that settles his nerves.

"Thank you."

* * *

The commission takes them far away, way back to southeast of Mondstadt. Thankfully, they can just pray to whichever god - they pray to Minghao, because Minghao likes them the most - to be able to travel faster, anywhere near a god's statue.

The soil crunches underneath their shoes and Seungkwan squints as he checks off one of the commissions for today. It was to defeat a Ruin Guard; a huge, hulking robot that shoots rockets and lasers and it always reminds Seungkwan of Fort Hateno, to be honest. The giant, corrupted robots, always on shoot to kill, even after fifty, hundred years. They struggled with it at first, because Hansol found it hard to focus on shooting his bow when he was on the move, and Seungkwan kept on freezing up when the long, elongated tube arms were about to hit him.

It's easier now, though. It gets easier, every day, and Hansol can shoot his arrows while walking sideways and not miss the weak point, and Seungkwan can face robotic machinations without having to think of his dead friends from his dead land from beyond a door that is at the edge of the world.

"What's next?"

Hansol chews on the pot roast, looking over Seungkwan's checklist. He feels human, and for a second, Seungkwan feels human, too. Like they're just two simple humans overlooking Dadaupa Gorge, the beautiful shallow lake littered with what looks like a hundred spears.

"Seems like we just need to do more collections. We have some of these already."

"We can take our time, then?"

"Yes."

Hansol likes walking around. Seungkwan does, too, so they do it a lot. They hold hands and walk around the safe parts of the Gorge, the Hilichurls and slimes already gone from when they first arrived. They jump down from the cliff and the shallow water touches their shoes. Seungkwan likes the Gorge. Minghao once said that the thousand spears were his, but Seungkwan zoned out before he could listen to the rest of the story. Hansol probably knows. Hansol listens a lot.

"This reminds me of Seokmin."

Hansol doesn't know Seokmin. Maybe Hansol doesn't know a lot of things, after all. Hansol doesn't know his friends. But Seungkwan talks about them enough that maybe Hansol knows them by now. How they were, at the very least, because they will never get to meet Hansol. If Jeonghan was here, Hansol would've been chewed out, scolded. Seungkwan can imagine it, kind of clearly: All of them, in Dadaupa Gorge, Seokmin fawning over the spears and Jeonghan making smartass quips and Soonyoung trying to befriend Hilichurls, like that one girl they escorted to the camp. And maybe Hansol would love them. Maybe they would love Hansol.

"We already talked about this."

"Oh, sorry," Seungkwan says, not really meaning it. "I forgot."

"You don't have to say sorry."

There's not much left to talk about in a hundred years that you haven't talked about already, after all. Hansol shrugs, like he doesn't mind hearing it all over again, so Seungkwan continues.

* * *

"Tell me what Hyrule is like."

Chan swings his legs over the harbor's port, and Seungkwan squats next to him, looking at the ocean. A few feet away from them, Hansol is trying to solve a crisis about fish, gently bartering with the fishermen.

He likes oceans. Even if they hold such bitterness for him, sometimes. They help him think. How many times have you seen the ocean, Seungkwan? How many of them did you sail? Did you ever find what you were looking for?

"Hyrule is kind of like Teyvat," Seungkwan starts, fidgeting with his sword. "The fields stretch forever. The grass is vibrant green. The sky is almost always blue."

"That's such a generic description."

It is, but what can you do, if it's such a far memory now. He hasn't been in Hyrule since. _Since_. He doesn't even remember that; He doesn't know the last time he saw the Hyrule in his memory.

"Yeah, but it's nice. The tiny windmill village outside of Mondstadt reminds me of Hateno Village, though. Springville, isn't it?" Chan shrugs, and Seungkwan snorts. "It has cottages and a dye shop and an inn and you can have your house constructed by this Hylian." He struggles to remember the name. "Bolson. Everyone knows everyone."

Hyrule or Teyvat, it's the same. Same fields of green, same mountains to scale, same pots to cook over in. Same worlds that need some saving, one way or another. The only difference is that one of them is in the past and the other one is in the present. Seungkwan, as always, often finds himself living in both.

"Was the food there good?"

"Yeah," Seungkwan smiles. "We ate a rock once."

"A rock?!"

"It was a funny story."

Seungkwan thinks of his Goron friends. ‘How are they now?’ he wonders. ‘How are they _now_?’ he wonders, a hundred years later. Seungkwan finds solace with the fact that he still remembers.

"I like your ears."

He smiles and tugs at the beret he's wearing, just above his pointed ears. It's red. Hansol wished for it, once, on his birthday, and the Goddess gave him a beret.

"Thanks, Chan."

* * *

Seungkwan is Hylian. His ears are pointed, his eyes are gold, but he can't do magic. He's fine with it; he has his sword.

You were never supposed to fight, anyway, Seungkwan. _I know_ , he thinks. _But why am I wielding a sword now?_

Hansol is Hansol. Hansol has round ears and silver hair and sometimes if he gets really into casting magic into his arrows, his eyes turn blue. Hansol isn't Hylian, but Seungkwan holds his hand and protects him and gives his life to Hansol, over and over. Hansol - he does the same, for Seungkwan.

 _Hylia_ , what does it mean when you do that for someone? Seungkwan never got to know. If Jeonghan or Joshua was here, they would tell him. They would look at Seungkwan with knowing smiles and a soft pat. They would tease him, demand to know Hansol, demand to meet the man whom he pledged his sword to. Why did you do it, Seungkwan? Why did you give him your life, your sword, your forever? What else can you give? What can you _not_ give?

Hansol looks down at him from the roof of the house that they built from ground up, and smiles.

* * *

Seungkwan had a sword, but he was never meant to fight with it. It was exactly why they gave it to him.

 _The Oathmaker_ was his sword's name, steel and handle all white, from hilt to knife-edge. _It's the Master Sword's baby brother_ , was what they said. _It can tear evil apart._

Seungkwan picked up his sword every day, trained every day, but he was never meant to fight, because his sword was waiting.

Always waiting. Like it has a life of its own.

Jeonghan was in Vah Ruta, the day of the battle. A giant, hulking, mechanical elephant. Seungkwan was supposed to stay within the castle, because he was supposed to be safer then. He came with Jeonghan, though, and Joshua let him, because they couldn't stop him anyway. How ironic, that thought. If he stayed in the castle, he would've been _really_ dead.

Dead, like how Joshua and Jeonghan was, when the darkness descended and Vah Ruta turned against them. Joshua took the hit for Jeonghan, because - Seungkwan supposes, maybe, that he understands it now. Giving everything to someone. Dying with them, holding each other's hands. Jeonghan could've left. Jeonghan could've dropped Joshua's cold, dead body, and ran from it all. But if he did, Jeonghan wouldn't be Jeonghan.

The monster had a lanky frame with mismatched arms; the right arm was thin and ended in a hand with five spindly fingers. Its left arm was much longer and bulkier. It had a red mane that ran along the back, its horns longer than its torso – it was a crude amalgamation of flesh and malice, the bright blue Sheikah technology running it.

Seungkwan died once.

He died in winter, just a month and a few days after his birthday. He was 23. The floor was cold and Jeonghan and Joshua were dead, like the thousand others, maybe, and the monster twirled its spear around and sprinted at Seungkwan.

It hurt - really, _really_ hurt, and Seungkwan, some days, could still feel the hole in his chest, the blood dripping down his torso. Could feel his lungs losing the battle and his coughs spewing out blood. Could feel the heaviness that his sword was, when he held and stabbed the mask of the monster - his last-ditch effort.

The monster stilled, and there was a crack. Its singular blue eye looked like it was _looking_. Looking at Seungkwan. Seungkwan could feel his bile rising, his sword getting heavier and heavier, and heard three voices in his head. Two of them, a distorted version of himself. One of them, deep and unfamiliar.

[ _Do you want to die?_ ]

[Are you willing to live?]

[ _ **People who are like you. Don't exist to live for yourself.**_ ]

[Let's live.]

[ _ **For me**_.]

The monster recoiled. The monster dropped its spear and the monster recoiled further and the monster let out a dark, fleshy miasma, supposed hands on its supposed face, and Seungkwan, through his blurry eyes, saw something crawl out of the monster's mask that split into half.

Silver hair, gold eyes. Eyes like Seungkwan's.

His sword felt cold, and the white turned blue, tiny ancient ruins on the edge.

You gave him life, Seungkwan. He killed you, but you gave him life. You gave him everything. Are you okay with that? Will you live with that?

[ **The monster scuttled away. Seungkwan closed his eyes. A hand, on his back, claiming him. The Mark of a Beast. It hurt.** ]

Live with it forever.

* * *

"I killed you."

It was the first thing Hansol said to him, when he woke up.

His back felt like it was burning, five lines running down from his shoulder to his mid-back. Hansol wasn't Hansol yet - Hansol was still just [A Purified Piece of the Blight] back then. He didn't get his name until maybe after a day. He looked lost, scared, as if he wasn't a piece of the thing that _killed_ Seungkwan. And then Seungkwan thought that maybe that was why he looked like that. And then Seungkwan stared at his silver hair and wide eyes.

"You killed me."

Dying for someone was easy, Seungkwan thought. Dying for someone was second nature, if you truly felt the need to give it to them. The last vestige of your life, offered up for whatever you believe in the most. For Joshua and Jeonghan, it was each other. For Seungcheol, it was his duty. It would've been easy, just as well, to die for _nothing_.

But Seungkwan died, and then he didn't. Seungkwan died and then he woke up. And when he looked around, the Great Plateau was dark and Hyrule Castle, from afar, looked wretched. And there was a piece of that wretchedness next to him, looking at him with a lot like _sorry_. And maybe Seungkwan didn't really think he was wretched. And maybe dying wasn't as easy as he thought it would be.

 _Live for me_. It was the same, this man and that voice. He was dead and then he was alive, because of the same thing. Though maybe that wasn't fair, because [A Purified Piece of the Blight] didn't look anywhere close to the monster that killed him and his friends and his countrymen.

They were underneath a cave. There was a storm raging over the Great Plateau. There was a campfire, and there were baked apples and nuts. There was the man, looking at Seungkwan like he was all he had.

"Do you hate me?"

It was a small, quiet question. Seungkwan didn't answer him, that time. He will, in a day, he will, and he will say _no_. He will say _How can I hate you?_ while killing a Bokoblin, the skeleton cracking underneath his sword. He will, but he didn't answer it at that moment, not when he felt the sobs about to escape his throat.

He just took a baked apple, and bit into it.

* * *

You were almost like a newborn.

Your first memory was a hot, searing pain, like someone was tearing you apart. There were yells, there were crying. You thought of an angry man with orange hair and pointy nose. You thought of the black mist, the red crackles. You saw all of it within you. Then you saw it ripped apart from you.

[You don't need it _._ ]

[ _Do you want to be alive?_ ]

[Live.]

You didn't know what that meant. You said yes, though. It was your first word. A pledge. A promise. An _oath_. Who were you to disagree?

Who were you?

You saw him bleeding out, spear in his chest. You saw him, gold eyes and blonde hair. He saw you, then he closed his eyes. You didn't know him. But you needed him alive. You felt like you owed your life to him. You probably did. You pulled out the spear. It felt wrong, in your hands. You stole clothes from the dead, because you have done worse things. You just knew.

You marked him. By _gods_ , he was your oathsworn. And you were his. So, you put him on your back and held his sword and hauled him out of there.

You walked for hours upon hours. What was happening, you didn't know. You just ran away, taking him farther away from the darkness. You didn't know this place. You didn't know any of this, but they felt familiar. You built a campfire somehow, in a cave, him on the floor in the cape that you stole because you already did worse things. You were sure of it. You thought he ate apples, so you took some, and tried to cook them. You burnt a lot of them, but some of them could be eaten.

You arranged them neatly, tucking yourself against the wall. You thought, briefly, that he was all that you could believe in. And if he didn't think the same way, if he hated you - _as he should_ \- then what of it? The rain was strong, and from afar, a calamity was happening.

You sat there and watched him, waiting in something that felt like fear.

* * *

"Do you remember," Seungkwan says, stretching his legs out, "When we first went to Mount Hylia?"

"Please, spare me the embarrassment of reliving it."

It _is_ embarrassing, but it's a funny story now. A lot of their adventures are like that. They're setting camp on top of one of the mountains around Liyue before returning to Qingce, the sunset painting beautiful golds, oranges, and purples around them. The trees rustle and the green plants sway softly in the wind; in the distance, they can see Dragonspire's snowy peaks. If they squint their eyes enough, though, it looks like the same snowy peaks of Mount Hylia.

"We didn't know how to hunt back then," Hansol says, lips pulling up into a smile as he looks into the horizon. "Nor could we keep ourselves warm."

Seungkwan laughs hard at the memory. "Those poor Bokoblins."

"They cook the steaks so well, though."

The first months were the hardest, after the calamity. Seungkwan knew how to wield his sword, but not the consequences that came with being adept at that skill. Hansol knew nothing, except for his unstable ability of forming and throwing ice projectiles. They made quite a pair: A Hylian, a not-Hylian, both killed by each other and brought to life by each other, sprinting across Hyrule in search of food and gear.

They ended up raiding the Bokoblin camps for food and extra supplies - those little imps were scattered everywhere. Hansol used their spears, then their clubs, then some other swords they picked up somewhere. None of them ever felt right, until he picked up a bow.

"We're better now."

Hansol says it so softly, and Seungkwan turns to stare at him. The wind is softly playing with his hair, silver strands so carefree and familiar. His gold eyes - so much like Seungkwan's - are so striking, at this fleeting time of the day, shining and tender as Hansol regards the world they are in now. Hansol dons his navy hood, an apparel Seungkwan made himself, assisted by Mingyu (a chef from Liyue they had befriended). He secretly made it as a surprise for Hansol, and there's not a day where Hansol doesn't use it, the silver embellishments glinting against the light.

A red beret. A navy hood. There is so much in there, Seungkwan thinks. So much that is beyond them.

It goes just as quickly as it came, and the light dimmed to a dark purple. The fire crackles, and for a second, it feels like they are back to how they once were, sleeping on the cold ground next to barely-there campfires, waiting for another day that they have to survive.

Not anymore, though. Not when Hansol stands up, yawning and stretching before extending a hand to Seungkwan. His other hand is adjusting his bow, shiny and slung across his back.

"Time to go back."

Every day, you make a choice. Will you run away, or stay? Will you wake up and find another reason for a new day, or will you give up entirely? Is the weight of living forever going to crush you? Will you pick up your sword? Will you take his hand? Will you find home? And if so, where is it? Are you alright with this?

"Let's go."

Seungkwan takes Hansol's hand, and together, they close their eyes and pray to their god.

* * *

They are not the heroes, is the thing.

Somewhere in Hyrule, a princess waits a hundred years for his knight to wake up. Somewhere in Teyvat, a wandering traveler looks for their sibling as they grow more and more entangled within the gods. Seungkwan and Hansol are not any of them; they are simply who they are. Seungkwan, a Hylian who died, then lived, and now will live over and over again. Hansol, just Hansol, who will never die alongside Seungkwan.

What else was left for them to do, but to travel? They couldn't just settle in Hateno Village, not when they would live forever and Hansol still has nightmares of slaughter. Kakariko Village was out, too. Instead, they scoured over Hyrule, made camp where they could, stumbling over the grass fields and inhaling as the air harshly blew over the flowers and grass. There's a place for trauma, now, in Seungkwan's hands and sword and his chest that still felt quite pierced, even when the wound disappeared and the flesh went back to its unmarred state. There's a place for trauma in Hansol's memory, his eyes turning blue, memories of his hand holding a heavy spear that felt every way wrong. There's a place for trauma between the two of them, the space they slowly worked to have diminished, because who killed you also made you stronger, because they are all they have left, because they live for each other, et cetera.

What else was left for them to do, but to move on?

* * *

Once, in Liyue, there was a festival.

Wonwoo, the magical librarian who gave them the enchanted gliders and taught Hansol how to do magic _properly_ , was observing with them as the townsfolk danced around. They were playing such beautiful melodies from the stringed instruments Seungkwan learned to love, and Minghao was dancing in the middle of the circle, silk flowing, like he's attuned to the vibrations of sound. Chan was dancing too, even though he was helping Mingyu with distributing the food from the restaurant.

"You two should dance," Wonwoo urged them, "To be blessed by Liyue's god. It makes love last."

 _Love_. Seungkwan flushed and Hansol smiled, just a bit embarrassed. Wonwoo seemed to have picked up on it, and felt a bit sheepish.

"Sorry, I just assumed."

"No, it's perfectly fine," Hansol said, turning to Seungkwan with his hand outstretched. "A dance?"

"We don't know how to dance."

"Then we shall learn."

And so, what if they did? Liyue was decorated with vibrant, red lanterns, and Seungkwan pressed his palm against Hansol's, the gold of his eyes reflecting the reds in the most beautiful ways, his silver hair styled back just for today. His navy hood went well with it, silvers dangling perfectly, and they walked clockwise around each other, and looked at no one but each other as they kept their palms touching. Seungkwan had his leather, fingerless gloves on, and Hansol had his own, but beneath the material, they knew they were warm.

"So, we love each other now?"

"Perhaps."

Love, what a strange word. Is there anything else that can surpass giving your entire lifespan to someone? Seungkwan couldn't really find it in him to protest about it. There wasn't much to protest about. Not when some days, Hansol was the only reason he even tried for yet another dawn. Not when some days, Hansol was the only reason he'd find a home.

"I don't mind," Hansol said, eyes looking the softest they had ever been. "I think I quite love you."

That look, he had never seen before. Seungkwan had known Hansol for years - had known _only_ Hansol for years - and yet that look made him restless, heart in his throat and eyes just about brimming with tears. Oh, _Hylia_ , when was the last time that he cried?

"And if I do?"

"If you what?"

"And if I quite love you too," Seungkwan gulped, before continuing, "What shall we do about it?"

"Then," Hansol said, quick to answer, "I shall give you my life."

Seungkwan laughed, voice kind of broken in ways it hadn't been in years. 

"We already swore our lives to each other," Seungkwan smiled as Hansol gave a hearty laugh, gums showing as he grinned wide. "You already gave me that."

Seungkwan looked so much like the sun. 

"Then what else should I give you?"

Hansol's question was so genuine, it ripped Seungkwan apart. He was warm all over, and he thought, _Is this okay?_ He thought, _Can I allow myself to be happy?_ Seokmin, Soonyoung, Joshua, Jeonghan, Seungcheol - Are you all seeing this?

"I think, maybe, that I just want a kiss."

* * *

"Do you feel sad?"

Jungchan the Ninth is the second Jungchan that Seungkwan and Hansol outlived. Chan's father was strong, living up to 80, but in his eventual death, he smiled at Seungkwan and Hansol so brightly, like how he did when they were still younger, running around in Liyue Harbor. _You're still as beautiful as the first time I met you, Kwannie,_ he said on his deathbed, _and you're still as handsome, Hansol._

Seungkwan and Chan are sitting on one of the cliffs behind Liyue, overlooking the city.

"I do feel sad," Seungkwan says. He's out of tears, for now, but he feels solemn and heavy. "Don't you?"

"Dad said he'll always be by my side in spirit," Chan looks away to clutch at his father's necklace. "I feel sad but I know I will be okay."

How odd it is, having to get used to losing people. _Friends_. Seungkwan has mourned countless people, Hansol being the only ever constant in his life. All of their names, though, he remembers. All of their names, etched on his mind, splatters of memories staying with it forever. He might forget their faces, or the city where they were in, or their voices, but their names will always come to the front of his consciousness; whether it takes him a second or a year to remember, it _will_ come.

"When I die," Chan says, voice small, "Will you miss me?"

Seungkwan feels the tears burst out of his eyes, just from the thought of how it first felt when he and Hansol were in the Lee household. It was early spring, and the Glaze Lilies were swaying gently on the fields during that particular year. Tersely waiting outside of the room, stiff in nerves and anticipation, Jungchan the Ninth next to them. How happy and awed they were, when the door opened, the infant Chan in the midwife's arm. Hansol held Seungkwan so tightly, that day, smiling at him in such a way that Seungkwan felt his heart lurch and give. They each held Chan, a small baby on their arms, eyes filled with stars and whatever it is that makes people hope.

A miracle of life, witnessed first-hand by them, who then grew into someone who is less of a friend and more of a family.

How odd it is, having to get used to losing people - but how much odder is it, that he can't get used to it?

Chan holds his hand and Seungkwan clutches it close to his face, tears falling down freely.

"Yes," Seungkwan sobs, "Yes, I will."

* * *

"What are we doing here?"

Hansol brought Seungkwan over to the edge of Starsnatch Cliff, overlooking the ocean. The Cecilia flowers are at full bloom, flowers that look so much like a certain flower he can't recall the name of, from Hyrule; Its white petals make Seungkwan feel more emotionally charged than usual. The wind is blowing, yet it doesn't feel like it will hurt, and Hansol gestures at him to sit.

"I, uh," Hansol looks embarrassed for a bit, before shifting to face Seungkwan, legs crossed next to Seungkwan's outstretched ones. "I asked a favor from Junhui."

"What favor…?"

Mondstadt's god is kind, free and laid-back, much like the wind he commands. _Moon_ is what the citizens of his region call him, but Qingce is under Liyue and they are friends with Minghao, so they use the adapted _Junhui_ for him. Where Minghao is grounded and firm as the god of Liyue, Junhui is liberated and relaxed as the god of Mondstadt. Hansol opens his hands, palm upturned, and Seungkwan gasps as Junhui's Holy Lyre materializes.

"Hansol!" Seungkwan gushes, laughing at the mischievous face he is donning. "What in _Hylia_ are you _planning?_ "

"Shush," Hansol laughs out, "I've been practicing this for _months_ now."

"When did you even find the time to practice?"

"Secret."

Hansol pulls at a few strings, the tones ringing out beautifully, making Seungkwan close his eyes for a bit. He lays down fully on the grass, eyes looking at the blue sky, the wind now strangely being gentler. It must be Junhui, he thinks.

"Listen, okay?"

Hansol sounds less confident and more sentimental, so Seungkwan says, "Okay."

He plays the first few notes, the repeating melody making Seungkwan smile - It's been _so long_ since he has heard _this song_ , and he has a thousand things to say. Many, many things. Things worth a hundred years. He feels like Hansol will scold him if he interrupts him, though, so he listens, watching as the wind circles them, white petals of the Cecilia flowers flying around in the air.

He can't help himself and whispers, "Are you going to sing?"

"Close your eyes, Seungkwan."

He follows Hansol, eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows stronger. It's cold against his cheeks, and he purses his lips in a smile when he hears Hansol's hesitant start of the song. Hansol's deep, awkward voice makes him giggle quietly, flushing in appreciation and affection. He listens harder, and his eyebrows furrow as he hears more things: A sound of a windchime, a chorus of laughter, a few more distant orchestras of sounds. A bell, a distant murmur, friendly clashing of swords. The wind grows even stronger, but instead of getting swept up and swallowed by the sound of its current, Seungkwan feels a chorus of familiar voices embrace him as the song reaches his favorite line:

_I will have you by my side, so I can care for you and love you._

He looks at Hansol, gasping with unshed tears in his eyes as Hansol smiles at him sadly, fingers still playing with the Holy Lyre. The Cecilia petals are still all around them, and the pastel blue sky is picturesque against the green fields, like a painting, a dream. Hansol looks so beautiful, silver hair caressed by the wind, gold eyes flitting down to the lyre as he concentrates, voices of Seungkwan's old life fleetingly singing along to both of them. The sounds circle them alongside the wind, feeling like a homecoming.

Seungkwan knows, even after a thousand years, that he will remember _this_ :

Starsnatch Cliff, Cecilia petals, the lyre, and the only boy he will ever love, singing the song he loved the most.

* * *

"You are so kind to me."

"Really?"

"Yes, Hansol. You've done so much for me. What have I ever given you?"

"My navy hood."

"I'm not joking around."

"Oh, I thought you were. I think it's silly that you think you've done nothing for me."

"Why?"

He takes your hand, puts it on his chest. There is a heart there, and it beats. It beats, and beats, and beats.

"You gave me life; you gave me you. It's all I could ever ask for in one very unending lifetime."

* * *

Minghao and his trusted adeptus, Jihoon, calls Hansol for a meeting. Jihoon is a reserved man wielding a polearm, a spear admittedly taller than the man himself. An adeptus, he is contract-bound to protect and defend Liyue, his lifespan going _way_ beyond human years.

Minghao said Jihoon is turning 3,000 next year.

It's nice, Seungkwan thinks, to have friends you don't have to constantly worry about outliving.

He does his errands alone, making sure not to take anything too dangerous lest he passes out in the middle of nowhere. Gods do take care of them, but he'd rather not put himself in such an embarrassing position. Especially if it means Hansol giving him a long lecture; between the two of them, Seungkwan scolds him a lot more, but Hansol can be just as naggy.

His commissions bring him all the way back to Mondstadt, greeting Wonwoo as he enters the library and checks out a book.

"Nice timing," The librarian says, "You should meet the new Acting Grandmaster. He just got appointed yesterday."

"Acting Grandmaster?"

"He's the one in charge of the Knights here in Mondstadt, for now." A knock, then, "Speaking of."

Seungkwan sucks in a harsh breath as the door opens, revealing a tall man with black hair, red lips, and kind, wide eyes. Someone who looks like, quite literally, a ghost from Seungkwan's past.

"Blessings of Moon, Acting Grandmaster."

"Blessings of Moon, Wonwoo."

" _Seungcheol_?"

It slips out before he can help himself. Wonwoo and the man looks at him confusedly, and Seungkwan finds it in himself to clear his throat and wave a shaky hand, composing himself.

The man clears his throat. "My name is C.H. Coups."

"My name is Seungkwan," He squeaks out, gold meeting brown. "Nice to meet you."

There is a hand, extended to you. For a second, your vision flashes: Back to Hyrule. Back to your first day in the castle, when you kneeled in front of the man in a blue tunic and white scarf and black hair, who gave you _The Oathmaker_.

_Seungcheol._

But this man is different. This man is clad in white and blue coat, immaculate as the Acting Grandmaster.

Seungkwan shakes his hand. There's a certain familiarity in it, and C.H. Coups has a look of surprise in his eyes when their hands meet. Seungkwan feels the same.

"Nice to meet you, too. Just call me Scoups."

* * *

"You just _have_ to meet my half-brother, Seungkwan."

Not even half a day, and Scoups already feels so close to Seungkwan. Seungkwan laughs as Scoups drag him and Wonwoo out of the library and into the town.

Gods in Teyvat give the people they find worthy _Visions_ ; physical artifacts that allow mortals to wield their elemental magic. Wonwoo's is his locket, the purple gem on it often glowing with the electricity it holds within. Scoup's is a gem attached to his belt, an orb with a gold glow of the Geo element, earthy and solid.

Seungkwan wonders if Scoups' brother has one, too.

Scoups brings them to a pub-slash-restaurant near the plaza, quaint and decorated with flowers.

"Blessings of Moon to you, visitors!"

Seungkwan feels breathless, for the second time of the day.

"Blessings of the Moon," Scoups says, before grinning at Wonwoo and Seungkwan. "I present you, my half-brother."

On the counter is Joshua. But it's not Joshua. Seungkwan doesn't make the same mistake twice - He doesn't utter the name that is threatening to burst free from his throat. This Joshua has earrings, hair black, clothing in complete opposite with Scoups: A white shirt, an ascot with a teal gem - a Vision, his mind supplies - on it, and a long, black coat with gold trimmings.

 _Hylia_. Hylia. What is going on?

"Hello," Not-Joshua smiles at Seungkwan. "Call me Jisoo."

It's so, _so_ familiar, it almost hurts. The non-existent hole in his chest metaphorically reopens, blood pouring out, threatening to remind him of _that day_. But Scoups slings an arm around him and Wonwoo greets Jisoo, and Seungkwan leaves the darkness, as easy as that.

Instead, his mind offers a far-fetched memory, foggy at the edges: Joshua, handing a rare flower to an even rarer flustered Jeonghan, the white castle garden a quiet escape from their busy lives as knights. Soft glow from the afternoon sun passed through the ceiling window, light and colors streaked across them. Picture perfect devotion.

He doesn't cry - he is too busy stopping himself from reaching over and hugging the hell out of this man. He doesn't know what's happening, probably has to ask Minghao or Junhui, but whatever it is, this time he _will_ be ready. He _is_ ready.

He is ready. For anything.

He smiles, looking at the patient Jisoo, and introduces himself.

* * *

He comes home just before dinner, promising Scoups and Jisoo to bring over Hansol next time.

He prays and feels himself lift up into the air, wind curling gently, before opening his eyes and finding himself back in Qingce Village.

The tiny village is quiet, torch and small lights lit up around the houses and streets to guide those who are taking a walk. Sunset has already passed, and when he walks in the house, Jazz meows lovingly against his leg.

"I'm back," Seungkwan greets, picking up Jazz and hunting for Hansol, whom he found unpacking food from Mingyu's restaurant. "Hey."

"Seungkwan, welcome back."

Hansol smiles and leans over, kissing Seungkwan's own smiling lips. Jazz seems to have a problem with this, meowing before wiggling out of his hold, shooting them a _look_ that just makes both of them laugh.

"You bought all these?"

"Nah, I fixed a little slime problem for Mingyu and he gave these as extra payment."

Seungkwan raised his eyes and pouted in a surprised and impressed way - a look Hansol is eager and happy to return.

"You have _no_ idea what happened today, by the way."

Hansol chuckles, taking a seat, and Seungkwan takes his sword off his shoulder to rest it on the floor, against the table, before sitting next to Hansol.

"Seems like a lot of story time."

"You bet."

"Then," Hansol says, smiling contently as they portion off the food, "do tell me as we eat."

* * *

They never settled down anywhere, before their house in Qingce Village that they built with their own two hands.

They went through the whole Hyrule, scoured the land, lived and rented temporary houses, but they never felt home. There was just too much of _everything_ , and the darkness from the north reminds them too much of the bile and heart and blood and death rising up their throat. Most times, they opted to just sleep in a cave, or on the ground, or in one of the ruins. It took them years to even go back to the East Reservoir Lake.

They were overlooking the water, watching the remnants of the corrupted, mechanical elephant with red lights from far away, when Hansol said, "I think he blessed me."

Seungkwan looked at him, tearing his gaze away from the moon reflected on the lake. Hansol was just staring hard at Vah Ruta.

"Who?"

"Jeonghan," Hansol whispered, like something will break in his admission. "When we -- I...when I hauled us out of here, all the way to the Great Plateau, I felt someone imprint on me. I didn't know who it was at first, but when you started telling me all these stories about them I...yeah."

Hansol cut his monologue off, and Seungkwan tried to find the words to say to that, but he couldn't. There weren't any. There would never be any words enough for it. He can only croak out a small, "Jeonghan?"

"I feel his aura sometimes, whenever I heal you," Hansol gulped, "I think he's _why_ I can even heal us. A blessing. He wanted you to be safe, Seungkwan, beyond death."

It clicked, then. Because Jeonghan was an excellent swordsman, an elegant fencer, a cunning tactician - but he was also a gentle healer. The only one they had, in their team; It was his Prayer, a blue glow that healed anything, so long as he focused.

The same glow Hansol had, albeit just a tad bit colder to the feeling, whenever he healed Seungkwan's wounds.

It started raining, and Seungkwan buried his head down his shoulders, crossed over his knees. _Beyond death_. Hansol scooted closer to where he was sitting, as Seungkwan started to shake.

Hansol didn't say anything, and just quietly held him. The rain poured, harder, stronger - raindrops almost painful against his closed eyelids and red cheeks. They were there for two hours, unmoving.

Then, the rain stopped. The sun rose again. Hansol held him through it all.

* * *

"If I may ask, why don't you both live in Liyue Harbor instead?"

The question is asked by Minhyuk of Liyue Harbor - different from Minhyuk of Mondstadt, and though unnerving with how they all have the same name, they look different enough for people to tell them apart. Hansol is still checking off their commissions and incoming requests, while Seungkwan patiently waits and points at whatever Hansol is missing now and then.

"We like the quiet," Seungkwan answers, "and the flowers and the waterfalls. The sunrise and sunset in Qingce Village is amazing."

"I ought to visit it one of these days."

"Please do, you won't regret it."

"Are you _sure_ this is the right place, Hoshi?"

The commotion just behind them makes Seungkwan turn, only to feel cold all over. The chatter of other people around him becomes more deafening, more isolating, until he hears nothing but his own rapid heartbeat in his eyes, on his fingertips, against his chest. His eyes feel restless, and he starts sweating nervously.

For the third time, he is seeing his dead friends.

Not-Soonyoung has red hair, a black eyepatch on one of his eyes, clad in a long fur-trimmed cape and loose white blouse. Somehow, some way, he has _actual_ cat ears. Next to him, Not-Seokmin is wearing a black, long-sleeved turtleneck underneath a cropped, short-sleeved coat with a hood. Somehow, some way, he has velvet, red horns bent backwards, looking a lot like goat horns.

Behind Not-Soonyoung, a claymore. Behind Not-Seokmin, a spear. They have matching Visions, red and teal orbs respectively, hanging off of their belts.

Memories all flood in, like a dam breaking and the water overtaking him. There's a lot of them that he has spent years trying to uncover, but now all his memories of the three of them going on silly adventures and tiresome training all rush in, more vividly than he ever thought possible. Seungkwan stares at the two of them, bickering, and feels the threat of a looming emotion overtake him.

They notice him, and Not-Soonyoung twists his mouth into this supposedly scary snarl, but Seungkwan has been at the receiving end of it so much that it feels comical and funny and just, _Hylia_ , he misses them, is the thing. Misses his friends, misses the way they used to be. And now they're here, except they're not, and he really should talk to Minghao about this, but --

Hansol's hand on his arm grounds him, pulling him out of the hole he is digging for himself mentally, and everything rights itself. As much as it could, anyway. He breathes in, just as Not-Soonyoung bursts out into a temper.

"What are you looking at, huh?"

Not-Seokmin exasperatedly sighs. "Hoshi, stop picking a fight with everyone."

"But he _is_ staring, Dokyeom. It's the eyepatch, isn't it. Or maybe it's the ears. _Always_ the ears."

"Oh my _god_ , shut up," Not-Seokmin, whose name is probably Dokyeom, hits Not-Soonyoung who is probably Hoshi, before striding up to Seungkwan. "Please don't let him scare you, I'm sorry."

Hansol's hand is now clutching Seungkwan's, giving a gentle squeeze.

"No," Seungkwan breathes out, "No, no, it's okay."

Dokyeom looks at him, and Seungkwan observes him - He is so much like Seokmin. But different. His hair is a beautiful brown, in this world, and he has velvet horns, elegant and _real_. But he still has the same mole on his cheek, next to his nose. The same warmth, the same kindness, the same _everything_. Seungkwan will bet his whole being that this Dokyeom sings the same, laughs the same, hugs the same. Seungkwan wants to hug him. Seungkwan wants to hug both of them.

A hundred years is a very, very long time.

"Gods, please don't cry. Hoshi, I can't believe you made him cry!"

Hoshi drops the pout, now worriedly rushing to Seungkwan too, looking visibly concerned.

"Wait, I didn't mean it -- Don't cry --"

"Ah, Seungkwan," Hansol laughs, swinging their joint hands, "Should I beat them up for making you cry?"

They seem to pause a bit at the mention of the name, recoiling and looking at Seungkwan, eyes confused and somehow melancholic, nostalgic. It goes just as it comes, though, as Hansol's joking statement sinks in.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"You twerp, I'll take you on!"

Seungkwan just continues to cry-laugh, incredibly comforted by the three familiars, bantering people around him.

* * *

A new year comes, and Hansol and Seungkwan give out red packets together, the celebration in Liyue at full swing.

Seungkwan excitedly distributes the packets to the children. He gives one to Chan, telling him to keep the money for himself and to not give Mingyu any, but Chan is too shocked by the fact that the packet is given by Seungkwan _and_ Hansol.

Minghao amusedly watches the events unfold with Hansol.

"Does he know that giving out the red packets together symbolizes that the two people giving it are married?"

Hansol laughs and hides his mouth behind his hand, adoringly looking at Seungkwan.

"I think so. He was the one who suggested that we do it for this year. He's been in a good mood."

More of their friends arrive, Hoshi and Dokyeom elated when they find that Seungkwan also has a red packet for them.

"It's because of them, yes?"

"He talked to you already?"

"He asked for a counsel the other day," Minghao hums. "I think they might have reincarnated into this world, their spirits spun back by the gods. Of course, I could be wrong, we never really know how the world works until things happen."

Hansol digests the information, watching Seungkwan excitedly bounce as he listens to whatever stories their friends are saying. _Their_ friends. It's a weird experience. Hansol never had the concept of friends and families and love, not before Seungkwan. He doesn't have much, before Seungkwan; But now he has all, and has experienced grief and happiness and everything in between.

"Is he okay?" He asks softly, because he's not sure how else to say it. Seungkwan looks so happy, but he just wants other people to tell him that it's real, sometimes. In his pocket, there is an age-old stopwatch from Hyrule that he keeps, and from it he calculated Seungkwan's birthday. Every year, since they arrived in Teyvat, he would pray to the gods he doesn't know and wish for Seungkwan's happiness.

"He's always been okay, with you," Minghao says, touching his shoulder in comfort. "Why else would he be willing to continue living with you, braving forever? As a fellow immortal, that's a really tough choice. Constant companionship is the purest form of love. Even someone like _me_ has to leave Liyue now and then. But him, he never left you. And neither did you."

Seungkwan spins around, like he's looking for something, and his eyes meet Hansol's. They crinkle into tiny crescent moons, the gold color in them twinkling, his smile looking the most _alive_ it has been in years. Hansol smiles back; He wills down the urge to cry, because Seungkwan will be worried if he does. But the truth is that lately he just wants to cry all the time, because Seungkwan is so beautiful and alive and loving, and in those moments, all Hansol can think of is _Oh no_. Love is a truly terrible thing, making Hansol like this, but he can't find it in himself to say he hates it.

"Maybe they never left him too."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to know what I told him?"

The wind sways the lanterns gently, and the gold and red glows of Liyue brings a gentle, undeniable comfort of home. Seungkwan looks at Hansol, and Hansol looks at Seungkwan. He doesn't break his gaze, none of them does, even if they are a part of two different conversations.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him," Minghao smiles, "That some bonds are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes."

* * *

Hoshi is a pirate, and Dokyeom is his cook.

In this lifetime, they met when they were kids, and Hoshi inherited the ship from his father. The _very real_ cat ears and the eyepatch, too. He lifted his eyepatch just to prove to Seungkwan that he has both eyes. Dokyeom is half-adeptus, his horns he took from his father. He _will_ live a long life.

Jisoo is still a knight, but he mostly lives his quiet life as a bartender, bow only drawn for sparring purposes half the time. Scoups is _so_ frighteningly similar to how Seungcheol was. Sometimes, Seungkwan still feels the name at the tip of his tongue, threatening to roll out, but lately he's starting to make peace with it.

New friends have taken a liking with the old, and Seungkwan has to gulp down the silent worry within him of what this era of quiet and happiness will ask from him.

He finds Hansol at the top of the mountain in Qingce, way higher than Minghao's abode. On the highest possible point of the village, there is a tall tree, its branches spreading wide, and there are statues arranged in a circle. On most days the mist is so thick you can barely see beyond the horizon. Tonight, as he looks at Hansol squatting at the direction facing the ruins, the sky is clear and hundreds of twinkling stars watch over them.

"What are you doing?"

Hansol looks up as Seungkwan walks closer to him, and he notices that Hansol is holding a stopwatch, ancient and Hylian by design. He sniffs and sits down, hugging his knees close to his chest.

"It's almost your birthday."

"Is that how you've been counting the days to my birthday, all these years?"

"Secret?"

Hansol grins and puts his index finger in front of his lips, and Seungkwan just laughs out loud at the silliness of it all. It's especially cold that night, and he scoots closer and Hansol sits down so Seungkwan can fully melt against his side.

He hums an old folk song as Hansol combs through his hair, fingers gentle and calming.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

"You know, the children asked if you and I were married."

"Is that what you want for your birthday?"

"Do you want us to be married?" Seungkwan laughs, and Hansol feels himself just become absolutely devoted. "We don't even have surnames."

"You have one."

"I threw it away already," Seungkwan sighs, but it doesn't particularly feel sad nor melancholic. He lifts his hands up, as if trying to reach the stars. "A long, long, _long_ time ago."

Silence descends upon them like a blanket, and Hansol looks up at the stars. One more person who is missing from Seungkwan's old life, and Hansol knows Jeonghan's spirit is within him, having been the blessing he received. Minghao, Jihoon, and Hansol had been trying to work around it, trying to understand it.

"I'll do anything for you," Hansol says, hand pausing as Seungkwan looks at him. " _Anything_."

"I know," Seungkwan smiles, and Hansol wonders if stars ever get jealous of how brightly Seungkwan shines, sometimes. "Won't you kiss me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes, please."

Just like always, who is he to say no to that?

* * *

All twelve of them, gods and mortals and half-adeptus alike, are squeezed in Mingyu's restaurant in Liyue.

Mingyu baked him a cake: a quaint, circular cake, purple and blue icing in a gradient, with a crescent moon and some white sparkles on it. It has fruits cut into shapes of beautiful flowers, and on the outside of a cake is a strip of white ribbon, _Seungkwan_ written on it in gold lettering. They sing a Teyvat birthday song as Seungkwan makes his wish.

[ _ **Happy birthday to you, the brightest star in the night sky.**_ ]

What is your wish, Seungkwan? In the dim restaurant, the candles illuminating your face, eleven smiling faces of people whom you might or might not lose - What is your wish?

They clap, laughing and smiling, Junhui's lyre providing the most beautiful sounds, but for a second Seungkwan feels his world get muted out and slowed down, looking up and straight at a grinning Hansol from across him. His hair is parted sideways for today, his hood beautiful and regal as always, eyes meeting Seungkwan's in the softest way possible. Hansol looks good in every light, but in the dark with only small orange glows to serve as light is where Seungkwan loves him the most. The contours of his face, the scar on his left eyebrow that never quite went away. His hands are clapping, skin flushed from the excitement and sheer joy. Seungkwan wills himself to not cry.

[ _ **Wishing you a joyous journey in this great big world.**_ ]

The song ends, and Seungkwan snaps back at the loud cheers of his friends. Hansol smiles at him, even if Hansol was squeezed in between an amused Jihoon and a drinking Scoups. Seungkwan smiles back, and blows the candle.

* * *

"I have a gift for you, Seungkwan."

It is Jun who announced it, and Seungkwan giggles at the theatrical way Junhui flourishes his harp, the drowsy look on his eyes making the scene funnier. Somehow, during the celebration, Hansol managed to move himself to the spot next to Seungkwan, and Seungkwan comfortably lays his head on Hansol's shoulder.

"You better enjoy this," Junhui laughs, "I had to figure out Hylian with Hansol for this one."

"I got quite fond of the song myself," Minghao muses, a cat-like smile on his face.

That sparks Seungkwan's interest, and his eyebrows shoot up at the first notes that Junhui plays. Everyone quiets down - a feat that is hard to achieve, what with how many they are in the room - and Seungkwan gasps and clutches Hansol's arm.

The wind gently flows from outside the restaurant to around them, and Minghao hums and sings along with Jun as the song starts. They're singing an old, spring song from Hyrule, one that Seungkwan used to sing quite a lot while picking out flowers and herbs. The smell of wet dew and fragrant blooms from a land far, far away envelopes them, and for a split second the wind _feels_ not quite like of this world.

Jun and Minghao's Hylian are - perfect, even if a bit hesitant at first. Hansol sings along quietly, swaying, and Seungkwan listens to him. Seungkwan first sang _Smile Flower_ to Hansol in Satori Mountain, back in Hyrule. They were camping on it for the night when the Lord of the Mountain appeared – it was a magical, otherworldly creature, four legs and two heads, halfway between a horse and a deer. It had gold laurel leaves for antlers, and it casted a comforting blue glow across Satori Mountain's peak. They watched with steady hearts as it drank from the pool near the big cherry blossom tree, and Seungkwan softly sang the song to Hansol until morning came and the creature disappeared.

He feels the same as he did, back then, heart calm and mind steady. He sings along, the Hylian words filling his ears with nostalgia and wonder. Hoshi and Dokyeom hesitantly hum along, looking surprised that they know the song. Jisoo and Scoups follow, all of them feeling as if the song is a long-lost friend to them; Something they've forgotten about, from childhood.

The wind brings along other sounds from the world outside; Distant bells, a chime, a water splash, a laugher. They all become a part of the song that Junhui is playing, voice clear and worthy of his human form's title as the wandering bard.

 _Just like always, we'll be together_.

The song ends, and the note hangs in the air, before an applause from the rest of the crowd. From the corner of his eyes, next to him, Seungkwan sees a lone tear fall down Dokyeom's eye.

He reaches over and squeezes his hand tight. Dokyeom looks at him, and Seungkwan smiles.

* * *

"I heard Inazuma has been opened, recently."

"Really, after years of its borders being closed off?"

"It's true. Apparently, a lot of people are now eager to travel to it."

"Why don't we _all_ go? And maybe explore a bit more of the land?"

"Oh, I want to go! I've always wanted to see the snowy peaks...We can use your boat, Hoshi."

"It's a _pirate_ _ship_ , not a _boat_ , Chan!"

"It will be like a fieldtrip, no?"

"If Jisoo is coming, I guess I'm going too."

"And you, Jihoon?"

Jihoon shrugs, and Minghao says, "That's a shrug that says _yes_."

They laugh, and Seungkwan fondly watches over them. The proud smile on his face is hard to not see, as he observes Hansol getting into a lively discussion with the Acting Grandmaster and Jisoo; Those three seem to have hit it off, and it feels like the two half-brothers just found a third one.

The idea of travelling with these people makes his heart soar with excitement and the feeling of something like belongingness. Neither him nor Hansol ever really found a place where they feel like they can fit in and stay with, not until meeting Minghao and seeing the beauty of Qingce. He remembers the first time they stood on the peak, looking over the land, and Hansol whispered, _this is it._ The elusive _home_.

As the night slips in further, they call it a night. They part just outside the restaurant, as they go their separate ways. Seungkwan feels an undeniable, happy tug at his ribcage as he watches Hansol hug all of them.

"Seungkwan."

Minghao and Junhui call them over, when everyone is already gone. There are still some folks around, but Liyue is quieter, calmer.

"I'll wait for you at the Qingyun Peak."

Seungkwan frowns. "What? _Now?_ What for?"

"It's best that you find out there," He smiles at him, waving a reassuring hand. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad."

"I'll guide you there," Junhui says, and Minghao is already gone before Seungkwan can even ask more questions.

"Now, shall we?"

A strong burst of wind launches all three of them into the air, making Seungkwan squeeze his eyes shut and yelp in surprise. His hands flail around, and he only relaxes when he feels Hansol hold him, too.

He only opens his eyes when his feet touch the ground again.

* * *

Qingyun Peak is way far out into the west, a tall structure in the middle of three mountains.

A monument stands on top of it, and it requires a mechanism to unlock its purpose, but with Junhui, they don't need to do that. Junhui simply creates another burst of air, his elemental powers enabling them to glide up higher, _way higher_ , past the suspended jade stone steps that spiral up, leading into a small floating land. It rests on marble stone carved into a sculpture of clouds.

On the island are two gold and black banners - the colors of Liyue, and Minghao himself, as the presiding god. It has a gazebo, the green tiered roof elegantly covering the whole island. Small lamps hang off from its edges, a gentle glow amidst the clouds and mountain peaks. This is the highest point Seungkwan has been on, and the stars look so much closer, attainable.

Waiting for them, Minghao appears in a more formal form: A tuxedo with coattails, waistcoat's buttons adorned with diamond symbols, and his hair jet black.

"What's going on?"

Junhui appears next to Minghao, now dressed in his ritual form as well: A frilly white top, his long jacket draped over his shoulders, teal embroidered with gold. A Cecilia flower rests on his ear.

Hansol walks forward, next to them. Seungkwan feels nervous, unsure of what this all means.

"Seungkwan, the gods would like to give you a blessing," Minghao starts, "For you are worthy. Years and years spent protecting and assisting Liyue and me, the Archon of this region."

"Stand at the edge," Junhui tells him, the winds guiding him on where to go. "And you will know."

Seungkwan looks at Hansol, and Hansol's expression is determined. He nods his head, and as always, Seungkwan trusts Hansol.

He will trust Hansol with anything.

He lets the wind guide him, and it glides him to the front, just by the very edge of it. Tall heights used to make Seungkwan queasy, afraid. But he learned to find the freedom in it, the belief in safety.

"You have one wish," Minghao says, and Seungkwan turns to look at them. "Focus."

Seungkwan closes his eyes. He's still not sure why he's here, but he could feel Minghao's firm, solid power in the form of the floating island, and Junhui's calming and guiding winds, the fragrance of the Cecilia flowers a familiar scent. He can feel Hansol, a constant, a pillar, his _person_.

A wish.

You already know what you want, don't you? You're in a white room. You see ascending, helix-shaped stairs. And you see your wish.

Friends. Family. Home. Completion.

Jeonghan.

He looks the same as the day you last saw him. No, not with the blood, but with the spotless tunic and the ruffled platinum blond hair. He's been waiting.

He smiles at you.

"Equivalent exchange," He says, in a voice starting to turn into something not quite his. "the law of the land."

Yes, it makes sense. Even in Hyrule, it functions like that. Even _here_ , now that you realize it. Fifty, so-so years of running around in between Mondstadt and Liyue, and you get your dead friends reincarnated, just within your reach. The gods give you your due.

[Will you accept this?]

Jeonghan holds out - The Oathmaker. But it's different, now. It has the same Sheikah technology on the sword-edge, but its steel is silver and the hilt has a tassel.

A tassel with a teal gem. A _Vision_. For you.

[The Gods.] [We found you worthy.]

"Visions are a gift," Seungkwan looks down at the sword. "Not a payment. What _are_ you going to take away from me?"

A chorus of laughter reverberates through the white room.

[Clever.] [Clever boy.] [In due time, you will know.] [You will.]

Seungkwan stares at Jeonghan. Stares at him, thinks of every memory, both foggy and clear. Thinks of his comforting hand, his tunic with a flower stitched on it. His elegant sword, his sneaky laughs, the way he'd cheat on their games but give them the prizes anyway.

In due time. They will not tell you, Seungkwan. But are you willing to take that risk? Gods are finicky, but decisions are absolute and contracts are set in stone. Are you ready for any demands they might ask for, in exchange for this

Down there, you have eleven people who are family, but you always thought that it should be twelve. That thirteen is the complete headcount. You knew it all along. You _felt_ it.

You already know what to do, Seungkwan.

"But Hansol," Seungkwan says, before giving an answer. "Hansol. He deserves his due, as well."

Another chorus of laughter, but this time, it's kinder. Endeared. Like they believe in something they haven't believed in for a very long time. What does it mean, when gods believe in you? Or in what you have?

[He already has it.]

* * *

[ _It was called a Silent Princess, Seungkwan_.]

Jeonghan?

[ _The flower stitched on our tunic. They're called Silent Princess_.]

* * *

Seungkwan awakens in Hansol's arms. His sword is in his hand. It has a tassel, the teal orb faintly glowing.

He turns his head and cries out instinctively, seeing Junhui carrying an unconscious Jeonghan. He looks the same. The same as a hundred years ago. Now, in flesh, in Teyvat, in the arms of a god, on a land they didn't even know about a hundred of years ago.

"Is he --" Seungkwan drops his sword to reach out for Jeonghan. "Oh, Hylia --"

He wiggles into a kneeling position, gently assisted by Hansol. Junhui and Minghao kneel down in front of him, and Minghao takes Seungkwan's cold, shaking hands, putting it on Jeonghan's chest.

There's a heart in there. And it beats. And it beats, and Jeonghan is breathing, his chest rising, and Seungkwan sobs out, tears streaming down his face. And his hands are shaking, curled into a fist against Jeonghan's chest, and he thinks of life. He cries, and he cries, and he's afraid to take off his hand because what if the heart stops beating? What if this Jeonghan turns into nothing once he lets go of him? What if the darkness comes again and takes all of them away?

They let him cry it out. Junhui and Minghao stay for as long as he needs. Hansol kisses his temple and rubs his back, letting Seungkwan cry out dozens of emotions at one.

"You're good," Hansol says in hush, calming whispers, cradling Seungkwan. "You're good."

The sun rises.

* * *

"Tell me, Hansol, what was your wish?"

"Did you ask the Gods?"

"They told me you already have it, but they didn't tell me what it was."

Hansol's voice is low, soft. Seungkwan closes his eyes.

"Every year," Hansol whispers, playing with Seungkwan's fringe, "I only ever wish for you to be happy."

* * *

Jeonghan doesn't remember anything.

"Your name is Jeonghan," Seungkwan says, voice just a little bit shaky. "I'm Seungkwan."

"Seungkwan," Jeonghan repeats, like he's testing the waters, and Seungkwan closed his eyes at the feeling of hearing his name in a voice from a hundred years ago.

He stares at Seungkwan with such hazy, emotional eyes, before his expression changes into a vague, confused expression. He hesitates a bit.

"This might be an odd request," Jeonghan slowly says, looking so unsure, "But can I hug you?"

Seungkwan doesn't make mistakes twice. But this time, he cries as Jeonghan's arms envelops him.

* * *

They leave him in Jisoo's care, because there was an obvious rapport that was established the moment the two of them met each other's eyes. Jisoo is also a healer, apparently his old profession, and it would be easier for him to look after Jeonghan when he's in Mondstadt.

"He'll be alright, Seungkwan. We can always visit him."

"I'm just worried," He pouts at Hansol, then at Minghao. "Why doesn't he remember anything?"

"It might be the price of the wish the Gods granted," Minghao muses, "Since Jeonghan's spirit was dormant within Hansol, it wasn't like he was resurrected from nothing. Memories are a form of life. In the eyes of the Gods, it's probably a life for a life. An even trade."

"It makes sense," Seungkwan sighs out. "At least we're okay."

"Yeah, except I can't heal us anymore."

Seungkwan laughs and Hansol makes a face.

"Junhui said _my_ guiding winds can heal, so that's on me now."

"Would you look at that, a swordsman that heals."

They bid Minghao goodbye, and instead of gliding back to their house, they opt to walk down the long, descending stairs and paved roads. Old people and playing children greet them as they pass by, and they buy some vegetables while making small talk.

"Chan decided to learn the sword in preparation for the Inazuma expedition."

"You're going to teach him?"

"I just might. Unless he decides to use the claymore and learn from Hoshi."

Hansol snorts at the mental image that he comes up with, and Seungkwan pushes at him, laughing.

They continue chatting, Hansol talking about his bow practices with Jisoo and Seungkwan talking about his elemental training with Junhui. They reach the flatland, and are crossing the bridge when Hansol suddenly stops, Seungkwan looking back at him in curiosity.

Qingce Village is so colorful, the flowers and water flowing around their lands vibrant and vivid. The sound of rushing water and distant laughter of children are carried by the wind, and it's been more than a hundred years, but Hansol still looks at Seungkwan like he's the only thing he believes in.

Seungkwan thinks he does the same.

"Are you happy?"

Hansol asks it, and it doesn't sound like he doesn't know the answer. Seungkwan steps forward, closer to him, and fixes his navy hood.

"I think it's silly," Seungkwan says, "That you even have to ask."

Hansol laughs. "I just like hearing it from you."

"Why?"

"Because you glow," He says, gaze tender, "When you say it, you glow, like you have the sun within you."

Seungkwan shakes his head, letting out a flustered whine, and Hansol just takes his hand, shrieking as a stubborn wind current circles around him.

"That's just mean."

"Stop embarrassing me, then."

"Oh, shush," Hansol laughs when the wind dies down, swinging their hands. "So, tell me. Are you happy?"

And, by god, does he glow.

"I'm happy."

* * *

In Qingce Village, there's a house near the biggest waterfall.

It's made of wood and stone, a hammock underneath the extended roof, a Siamese cat in it. It has two floors, one bedroom, a quaint kitchen, and the garden next to it blooms Cecilia flowers. Cecilia flowers only ever bloom in harsh wind, so one has to wonder how that is even possible in a flatland.

Seungkwan adjusts the framed picture they hung next to the door, taken during Chan's birthday. All thirteen of them at the Luhua Pool, Chan's first actual expedition before they go to Inazuma. They're huddled together with bright smiles on their faces, even Jihoon. Chan received his Vision when they got back that day, bright purple orb inlaid in his father's necklace. He ended up using a polearm, graceful and lithe.

A lot has happened since. Jeonghan showed a surprising affinity with catalysts; He now wields a book that has a dark green orb embed on its cover, given to him by the Gods themselves. The mischief never left Jeonghan; he is still the same as he was, even without his memory. Wise, yet laidback and funny, dependable yet conditionally childish. His growing bond with Jisoo doesn't escape Seungkwan at all, and the way he catches them smiling at each other makes Seungkwan believe in fate just a little bit harder.

"Are you ready for Inazuma?"

Hansol asks him, hair still silver, hood still navy, embellishments still glinting. Like this, standing in front of Seungkwan, it's always as if time never passes by, with Hansol. It fills him with happiness; What does it mean, then, to be thankful for being able to spend an eternity with someone?

"I love you," Seungkwan says, and Hansol blinks, the sudden affection throwing him off guard, before his reaction softens. His eyes crinkle as he grins, the early noon light from the door making him glow.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Seungkwan died once.

It was a pretty traumatizing experience. The trauma is still in him, in his hands, in his chest, in his house, in his _person_. But the trauma also melts into something more malleable, something easier to swallow, something he can accept. It only took him a hundred or so years to heal, and he wasn't alone, and that's a comforting thought.

He still has an eternity to live. But he also has Hansol. He has his friends, some of them immortal, some of them mortal, some of them mortals finding ways to become immortal. He has Teyvat, and it's been so long that he doesn't remember which edge of the world the door he came from actually is at.

The mark on his back no longer stings. It only takes him three seconds before fully waking up, now, and he learned some of the little luxuries that come with being awake in mornings. Like seeing the way Jazz snuggles against the windowsill. Like hearing the windchimes as the sunrise comes.

Like watching Hansol's peaceful face, unmarred by any worry or nightmares, silver hair strewn over the pillow as he lays down. Most times, he just opens the windows with his guiding winds and inhales, the morning dew an old friend he never knew he misses. He plays with Hansol's bedhead, careful not to wake him up.

But Hansol always wakes up. And Hansol will always flutter his eyes and look at him and Seungkwan will always look back and it will always feel a lot like _home_.

The truth is maybe it will never go away. You will always have those moments where you freeze up when you see mechanical enemies, or when you look at your reincarnated friends and feel a certain fear. You will always worry about the darkness, but you will also do well to remember how you chased it away. You will do well to remember what you have, and how far you've come.

Your life goes like this: You get up and pick up your sword, and you meet a new dawn. And you stand up if you get beaten down. And if you can't any more, you have twelve other people who love you enough to do it for you over and over until you can, all over again. And you love them enough to do the same for them.

You have a house, and in it, you have a home. There's a heart in there, and it beats. And it beats. And it beats. And it beats. And you will do anything to keep it.

Get up, Seungkwan.

 _Okay_ , he thinks, and does just that.

**Author's Note:**

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